Peter May - The Firemaker

‘No.’ Li sat down on the stool the defeated chess player had just vacated. ‘Three. In different parts of the city. But they’re connected.’

Old Yifu sat down opposite him, both excited and concerned by the news. ‘You’ll give me a game of chess and tell me about it while we play.’

Li took out his watch. ‘It’s late, Uncle Yifu. We should eat.’

‘We can eat after. First you tell me.’ He rearranged the chess pieces, simple wooden disks engraved in black or red with Chinese characters, on the board. ‘Then we eat.’

Li shook his head fondly. He knew his uncle wanted to hear every detail, and his uncle knew that he wanted to tell him. He watched the old man as he laid out the pieces on either side of the ‘river’. He had a thick head of unusually curly hair, highlighted by an occasional strand of silver, and wore square tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses. His eyebrows were raised in a permanently quizzical expression, and more often than not a smile would carve deep creases in his cheeks. He always wore colourfully patterned short-sleeved shirts over baggy trousers that concertinaed around open sandals, and carried a small satchel in which he kept a jar of green tea, his chess set, a pack of cards, a book, and that day’s newspaper. ‘Your move.’ Old Yifu waved a hand at him impatiently, and Li moved one of his Soldiers a single square forward. ‘Okay, tell me.’

But Li had other items on his agenda ahead of the murder inquiry. ‘There was a strange man in my office today,’ he said.

‘Oh?’ his uncle said casually, apparently focusing attention on his first move.

‘A feng shui man.’

‘Ah.’ Old Yifu seemed reassured by this and moved one of his Horses.

‘He said he was a friend of yours.’

‘Hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm.’ Old Yifu feigned indifference. ‘Your move. Pay attention.’

‘He said you’d sent him.’

‘Well, of course he would.’

‘Because you did?’

‘Why else would he say it?’

Li sighed. ‘Uncle Yifu, it’s not that I have anything intrinsically against the idea of feng shui …’

‘I should hope not!’ Old Yifu was indignant.

‘In fact, I’m sure that many of its precepts are based on fundamental truths, and that there is practical value in them.’

‘Of course there is. Practical and spiritual. Come on, move!’

Li moved a Horse to protect his Soldier. ‘It’s just that… well, as you know, the authorities are not very keen on it. At least, not officially.’

‘Nonsense!’ Old Yifu was adamant. ‘No builder worth his salt puts up a new building these days without flying the plans past a feng shui man. State buildings, too.’

‘Well, that’s as may be…’ Li took a deep breath. ‘But the truth is, Section Chief Chen doesn’t want a feng shui man in the building and told me as much.’

‘Chen?’ Old Yifu snorted his derision. ‘What does that old fart know? You leave Chen to me. I’ll sort him out.’

‘It’s not just that, Uncle Yifu…’ There was a hint of desperation creeping into Li’s voice now. His trump card had just been dismissed. How could he tell his uncle that it was embarrassing ? That his colleagues found it a source of great amusement? Besides, he didn’t want Old Yifu taking issue with Chen. It would be like a parent berating their child’s teacher. It could create bad feeling and rebound on Li. ‘I mean, I can take care of Chen. It’s just…’

Old Yifu moved a Soldier across the river, slapping the piece down on Li’s side. ‘Just what?’

‘Just… well, I’m too busy to get involved with that sort of thing just now,’ Li said lamely.

‘Don’t worry,’ Old Yifu said. ‘I’ll make sure the old boy doesn’t get in your way. With three murders on your plate, you’ll need all the free-flowing ch’i you can get.’

Li gave up. He wasn’t going to win without giving offence, and he would die before he offended his uncle. Still, sometimes it could be very difficult. He made a careless move, and Old Yifu leapt on his Soldier like a crow on carrion. ‘For heaven’s sake, Li Yan, you will never beat me at chess if you don’t pay attention!’

‘How can I pay attention when I’ve got three murders on my mind?’

‘Chess frees the mind and cleanses the intellect. You will think all the more clearly for it.’ His eyes were fixed on the board. He looked up. ‘Come on. Your move.’

Li sighed and examined the board. Old Yifu said, ‘I got a letter from your father today. Your sister is pregnant.’ He paused before adding, ominously, ‘Again.’

Li abandoned the game and looked at him in dismay. ‘She’s not going to have it, is she?’ He was horrified by the thought. His sister, Xiao Ling, was even more stubborn than himself. Once she had set her mind to something there was no dissuading her. And she already had a child. A wonderful four-year-old little girl, with a smile that was destined to break hearts. An impudent smile that dimpled her cheeks and lit up her eyes. Li could see her now, grinning at him, challenging him, hair gathered in ribbons on either side of her head swinging free as she cocked it to one side or the other. Xiao Ling was married to a rice farmer near the town of Zigong in Sichuan province. They lived with his parents and made a good living from the land. But they wanted a son — everyone wanted a son, for a son was much more valuable than a daughter, and under the One-Child Policy they could only have one or the other. And if Xiao Ling was pregnant and insisted on having the child, the months ahead would be intolerable. First her village committee would send representatives to try to dissuade her from proceeding with the pregnancy. Then she would be visited by cadres who would exert powerful and increasing pressure on her to have an abortion. She would be subjected to hours of psychological persuasion. It had been known, in cases of particularly intransigent mothers-to-be, for enforced abortion to be applied, usually with the connivance of the family. For if a second child was born, there would be hefty fines to pay, fines that most people could not afford. The families could also be penalised in other ways, with loss of free education, access to medicine, housing, pension. The pressures could be made unbearable.

Old Yifu nodded sadly. ‘She’s a difficult girl, your sister. She’s determined to go ahead.’

‘Has my father talked to her?’

‘Oh, yes. But, of course, she will not listen.’

‘What does her husband say?’ Li had never liked him. He thought, like many brothers, that no man was good enough for his sister.

‘I think,’ Old Yifu said, ‘that he would like the chance of a son, so he is sitting on the fence. He will neither support her, nor dissuade her.’

‘Bastard!’ Li said. He scratched his head. ‘She won’t listen to me.’ He glanced at his uncle. ‘The only person she might listen to is you.’

Old Yifu nodded. ‘Your father thinks so, too.’

‘What will you do?’

‘I will go and speak to her. But I will not tell her what to do. The One-Child Policy is a necessary evil. But a woman has a right to bear children. She must make her own decision, based on what is right. Not only for her, not only for China, but for both. And sometimes that is not an easy thing to do.’

They sat in silence for several moments, staring at the chessboard, but their minds were not on chess. Finally, Old Yifu clapped his hands to break their reverie and said, ‘Your move.’

Li blinked at the board and moved his Castle, without thinking, to threaten his uncle’s Bishop. Old Yifu frowned, perplexed, unable to see the logic in the move but suspecting a trap. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Tell me about your murders.’ And so Li told him — about the burning body in the park, about the small-time drug dealer found on waste ground, about the itinerant lying with a broken neck in a condemned siheyuan . ‘And the connection?’ his uncle asked. Li told him about the cigarette ends. Old Yifu frowned. ‘Hmmm. Not much of a connection. Can you prove they were all smoked by the same man?’